Cry for Help

Sigh.

I shouldn't be awake. I just get sad at night time.

It's so hard to be alone. Maybe that's why I can't write. Because I'm always supposed to go somewhere or I'm always with someone.

Master Caswell read us excerpts from an essay called The End of Solitude. I think of it more and more often lately. For interested parties, this is a link to it: http://chronicle.com/article/The-End-of-Solitude/3708.

It's a rather lengthy way to say that our culture as of late demands social networking and closeness--even if the closeness is only on the surface. That people fear being alone. Which I definitely think is understandable at times... but in the world today, we're geared to be with someone constantly, every hour of every day.

I'm a fan of solitude. Lately, I've often felt horribly lonely, and I'm almost always surrounded by people. If I'm going to be alone, I want to be alone. The kind of alone where it isn't "impolite" to read or write.

It's all so difficult. I feel sick thinking about things.

I think about thinking quite a lot. Metacognition. It's one of my favorite things to think about. I was thinking about it the night of the Honors plenary... Dr. Bell was giving his speech (which is the same each year, the mentors tell me), and he very strongly encouraged thinking. A lot of people encourage thinking.

I don't understand. They never add the disclaimer.

Doesn't it bother them? Does it keep them awake at night? Do they ever have trouble going on with daily life because they can't figure out what it means to exist?

There should be a warning. Thinking is a dangerous thing. And once you start, you can't go back.

I don't like sitting here typing a bunch of sad things. Mostly I just feel sick from not writing, so I wanted to throw something out into the world of the Internet in an effort to make myself feel better. There are a million happy things in the world, a million happy things in my life. And I love you. I love you so much.

Thanks for reading.